Chapter 40 - Hold to Account

Limon studied Li Qingyu for a moment. She spoke as though she were some kind of savior. Then he said, somewhat sourly, “You can say that, but I’ve been swept along by the times myself—so far that I’ve become a traitor.”

“But you haven’t become the enemy of the entire world. Not yet.”

Humanity’s last Sword Master. If the constellations truly had some hidden purpose in contracting with players and granting them power, he would be the one person they found most troublesome.

And if a constellation had been behind Lee Cheon-gi’s actions, it would not stop there. They would likely mobilize other Monarchs and even nations to make Limon an enemy of the world.

“That’s why I said I was lucky.”

“... You mean the timing?”

“Yes.” Li Qingyu nodded without hesitation, then continued calmly. “If people had remembered your reputation even a little longer, Sword Lord, I wouldn’t have had the chance to meet you at all.”

What if Limon had not fallen as he had? The Black Dragon Clan would eventually have lost its majority stake and been forced to halt the world-peace plan. Li Qingyu, far from having the chance to guard against the constellations, would have borne the blame for her clan’s downfall and been sold off.

“On the other hand, if people had forgotten your reputation too quickly, the Seven Dragons Society would have fought you first.”

What if Limon had fallen too quickly? Assassins from the Seven Dragons Society might have come for him instead of Li Qingyu. With Li Qingyu the only princess wary of the constellations, the Society would have been eager to make Limon an enemy of the world, if only to settle an old grudge.

Had they gone to all-out war, more than half the Society would have been slaughtered, while Limon would have lost at least an arm and ended up on the run. Only the constellations would have profited from it.

“So being able to meet you at just the right time was nothing short of luck, Sword Lord.”

Whatever pleased her so much, Li Qingyu was smiling brightly. At the sight of her cheerful smile, Limon said sharply, “And thanks to your arriving at just the right time, I’m the one who got dragged into this mess.”

Even supposing a constellation had intervened, meeting Li Qingyu had undeniably prompted Lee Cheon-gi to decide to deal with Limon in earnest. In that sense, her visit itself had brought him misfortune. Limon made no attempt to hide the sarcasm.

But she was unruffled. She merely nodded. “Yes. It’s unfortunate.”

Limon’s eyebrow twitched. Her voice sounded sincerely regretful, yet her eyes, clear as obsidian, held not a trace of guilt beneath that regret.

“Are you unhappy with my answer?” she asked quietly, as though she had read his mind.

“Do you think I’d be happy with it?” he replied under his breath.

“No. I imagine it makes you angry.”

Li Qingyu readily acknowledged it. Then she lowered her gaze slightly to the sword at her throat. “Especially if you believe I’m the one you should collect your blood debt from.”

“...”

Limon did not bother answering. The fact that he had kept his sword trained on her throughout their conversation spoke for him.

Seeing his cold expression, Li Qingyu closed her eyes and drew a short breath. When she opened them again, everything had changed.

* * *

“Sword Lord.”

Her voice was calm and subdued. Its lightness had given way to reverence. Her address was so courteous that its very sound carried weight.

“You are the last Sword Master, the guardian deity who has protected the world by your own will. A stern judge and a fair absolute being.”

Her smile had vanished, and with it, her youthful air. Only a composed, adult solemnity remained on her face. Her unwavering bearing made her beautiful features seem all the more graceful.

“I, Li Qingyu, descendant of the Awe-Inspiring Black Dragon Lord, dare to ask you this, though I know it is impertinent.”

The smiling girl of moments ago was gone. In her place stood a superhuman no absolute being could afford to underestimate; a mastermind who had long held the world in her hands and toyed with it. One of the Seven Dragons Society’s seven rulers. A noble inheritor of the dragon’s pure blood. The Black Dragon Princess.

Her bearing, her face, her voice—and above all, her eyes, so clear they reflected Limon like mirrors—made that plain. Looking directly at him, Li Qingyu asked:

“Was it wrong of me to prevent wars and preserve world peace all this time?”

The world-peace plan. An outrageous scheme to bring Limon down by keeping the peace and denying him chances to distinguish himself. To Limon, it was naturally unforgivable. But could the work of preserving peace be called wrong, whatever its purpose?

“Was it a crime to deceive the world and make Monarchs into absolute beings in order to maintain peace?”

They had engineered the dungeon bubble and raised the standing of players to bring in funds. Judged purely by the law, the plan amounted to crimes carrying more than a thousand years in prison. But should they be punished for it as a crime? For not allowing the world economy to collapse?

“Was it an unforgivable mistake to be wary of the constellations and prepare for them?”

Her suspicions rested on scant evidence and vague misgivings, scarcely distinguishable from a conspiracy theory. To those who worshiped the constellations, they might be the ultimate insult. But was it truly a mistake to be wary of beings of uncertain identity who had appeared without warning and offered their favor?

“Should I not have come to you, believing that the Seven Dragons Society and the Sword Lord joining hands was the only way to stop the constellations?”

The fight with the Infinite Monarch had begun because Li Qingyu came to Limon. Should she be held responsible for that? For suspecting the constellations, staking everything on preserving peace, becoming isolated even within her own clan, and coming to Limon as her last hope?

“Please tell me, Sword Lord.”

Limon merely listened to her questions, silent, his sword still aimed at her. As though pressing him for the answer he had put off, Li Qingyu asked one final question.

“Am I someone who should repay a blood debt to you?”

“...”

He did not answer. No—he could not. That was the heart of it all. It was why Limon, who never hesitated when wielding his sword, had yet to cut her down. He could only look at Li Qingyu in silence.

But Li Qingyu did not press him again. She watched him with tranquil eyes, then spoke.

“You swore on your sword that you would never abandon me unless I turned my back on you.”

The sword that had remained pointed at her throat trembled. Its tip, still until then as though fixed in place, moved for the first time.

It was the faintest movement—less than a millimeter, too slight for an ordinary person to notice even if they saw it, and over in the blink of an eye. But Li Qingyu felt it through her skin where it touched the blade and through senses granted by psionics that surpassed ordinary perception. Above all, she sensed the first ripple of uncertainty in Limon’s mind. Even learning of the Seven Dragons Society’s conspiracy had surprised him without shaking him.

“I won’t make the excuse that all of this happened before you made your vow.”

It would have been a convenient excuse, one that might make Limon lower his sword at once. But Li Qingyu did not beg for her life with such a stopgap. She simply reached out slowly.

“If you believe even one thing I’ve done was wrong...”

Her hand slid around the blade at her throat. Her fingers were so slender that the slightest movement of Limon’s sword seemed enough to sever them. Li Qingyu paid that no mind. She gently supported the sword and kissed its tip.

Was the blade too sharp? Or had it trembled again? A drop of blood welled from her lightly cut lip. Only after the crimson blood had moistened her lips did Li Qingyu draw back from the sword’s tip. Then she pulled the sword toward herself, held its point steady where it could easily pierce her heart, and smiled quietly.

“Cut me down.”

Wearing a smile as beautiful and pure as that of a maiden offering herself to a dragon, Li Qingyu finished, “If that is your will, I will gladly accept it.”

* * *

Limon stood for a long while with his sword aimed at Li Qingyu, as still as a living statue. She smiled at the blade before her without a trace of fear. At last, he asked quietly, “Are you out of your mind, or are you just an idiot?”

“Which do I seem to be?”

“At least I know you’re not sane.” He shook his head.

It was absurd enough that a little questioning had made her expose the Seven Dragons Society’s conspiracy. But then she had willingly offered her heart to his blade, saying that if plotting it was a crime, she would atone with her life. By any measure, it was madness.

“... Though you’re clearly not an idiot, either.”

“You flatter me.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

What sort of mind did it take to hear that as praise? Li Qingyu blushed and looked bashful. Watching her, Limon let out a small sigh.

“I was lamenting.”

It would be easy to cut Li Qingyu’s throat. Even as a princess of the Black Dragon Clan, she could neither dodge nor block his sword in this position. But Limon could not cut her down, because he had no fitting answer to any of her questions.

Was preserving peace wrong? Was sustaining the economy a crime? Was being wary of the constellations a mistake?

‘If those are crimes, then I’m a criminal too.’

Limon had done much to protect the world—enough to be called humanity’s guardian deity. That experience had taught him it was better to save the world by whatever means necessary than to stand on principle and let it perish. Of course, an end could not justify every means. But by Limon’s standards, what the Seven Dragons Society had done was justifiable enough.

‘And being wary of the constellations is only natural, not some remarkable foresight.’

For the same reason, he could not fault Li Qingyu for coming to propose to him in hopes of keeping the constellations in check. If her fears proved true and the constellations could control players to harm the world, neither the Society nor Limon could stop them alone. Limon might be able to cut down a constellation, but he had no way to fight the entire world. And for all the wealth the Society possessed, it had no means of defeating the constellations.

In that sense, Li Qingyu had been right, as a matter of strategy, to wait for Limon’s downfall before trying to join forces with him. Had he not fallen as he had, he would never have considered joining hands with the Society. He had, in fact, already rejected her proposal once.

‘I can’t blame her for coming to me only after selling off nearly half her clan’s stake, either.’

They had already lost 49.9 percent of their shares. If they lost just another 0.1 percent, the Black Dragon Clan might fall apart altogether. And he was supposed to condemn the girl for coming to him only after being driven into a corner like that? Limon might have been reckless enough to be called a mad dog, but he was not that kind of bastard.

And so long as he could not say with certainty that Li Qingyu had committed a crime, he could not collect his blood debt from her over this. Demanding payment for a blood debt from someone who had committed no wrong would be murder, plain and simple.

Why should that matter? He could ignore it if he wanted. He could kill Li Qingyu right now and smash the Seven Dragons Society for good measure, just to vent his anger. The world economy would collapse, penniless players would run wild with the constellations behind them, and peace would be swept away—but he could do it.

Heroes were born in times of chaos, after all. If Limon fought the constellations amid that chaos and displayed his overwhelming strength, he could become an absolute being once more and return as humanity’s hero.

But he could not do that. He knew all too well what lay at the end of such a life. It was why the Age of Heroes, when more heroes had been active than ever before, had also become the most horrific age in history. And it was why, of the thirteen Sword Masters who had attained eternal youth and life, he alone had become the last Sword Master.

He could give up being a hero. He could not give up being human.